A curious quote, I am sure, for any of you who have not read C.S. Lewis' Perelandra. But the context of that grand story is not required to grasp my writing here. Just know that an eldil is a being quite beyond man whose closest parallel in the Christian worldview would be an angel, and Maleldil is Lewis' name in that story for Jesus Christ, God incarnate.
With this understanding, embrace the eldil's words again: "He [man, that is] is indeed but breathing dust and a careless touch would unmake him. And in his best thoughts there are such things mingled as, if we thought them, our light would perish. But he is in the body of Maleldil and his sins are forgiven."
Breathing dust. Fragile, delicate flickers of life, as faint as mist. One careless touch—no matter its origin—can unmake us. A little word, a thoughtless nudge. It could be all over in a second. And as if that wasn't enough, our threadlike existence isn't just fragile; it's flawed. We're as vulnerable as a butterfly—but we've lost a great deal of our color. Our thoughts are flimsy, and our spirits are faint. We're weak and riddled with sin. Our state seems hopeless.
Yet the eldil continues: "But he is in the body of Maleldil and his sins are forgiven."
It would be a vast understatement to say that my mind is blown to think that the God of the universe is so gentle and loving towards us. He could, if He wanted to, wipe us out in an instant. And, really, He has good reason to do that. We haven't honored Him like we should have.
But He doesn't squash us. "He remembers that we are dust" (Ps. 103:14, ESV). He decides to deal gently with us.
More than that, He decides to forgive us. He makes us part of His body and says we are clean. And nobody can argue with Him.
Sometimes life can make our heads spin, stretch us out until we feel like we might tear, frustrate us until we think we might lose it. Sometimes we do those things to ourselves. But the terrors and trials aren't the end of the story.
In the twists and turns of my own time on this planet, I've become absolutely convinced of something. I want to share it with you, for you can be anchored in it, too.
Look back on your life for a second. Where have you been? Has your Lord not been there with you? What have you been through? Did He not carry you? Where are you right now? Is He not there too? What's making your heart beat? Surely, it's He. Is there peace in a hurricane? He put it there. Did the sun rise today? It's because He drew it up. Is the earth still spinning? It's in the palm of His hand. Is there breath in your lungs? It was never your own. Your story only has one Author; you only have one Maker. There's One holding the universe together and sustaining your life. Has He not always been gentle with you? Has He not always been kind and abounding in steadfast love, even in discipline? Has He not cherished you and held you? Gathered every one of your tears in hands scarred with love? Is it remotely possible to deny that the Lord is good?
He has been gentle with us. He has been—and always is—good to us. As the psalmist says, "He does not deal with us according to our sins, nor repay us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is His steadfast love toward those who fear Him; as far as the east is from the west, so far does He remove our transgressions from us" (Ps. 103:10-12, ESV).
By the blood of Jesus, we are forgiven and clean.
I don't know where you are right now or what you're thinking about your God. But would you take a deep breath and remember something? YHWH is good. Our Lord is good. He is good.
It doesn't matter what sorts of things are spinning around you right now. The breath in your lungs should be enough to convince you that He is still holding you, right in the eye of the storm, right in the heart of His peace. Draw near to Him. Rejoice and be refreshed in His undying love. And, with the saints of ages past, ask Him to just keep you right there, to tie you to His goodness so that you never, ever forget it.
Oh, Father. Let this be the prayer of our hearts.
Come, Thou Fount of every blessing, tune my heart to sing Thy grace.
Streams of mercy, never ceasing, call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet, sung by flaming tongues above.
Praise the mount, I'm fixed upon it—mount of Thy redeeming love.
Here I raise my Ebenezer, hither by Thy help I come.
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure, safely to arrive at home.
Jesus sought me when a stranger, wandering from the fold of God.
He, to rescue me from danger, interposed His precious blood.
Oh, to grace how great a debtor daily I'm constrained to be.
Let Thy goodness, like a fetter, bind my wandering heart to Thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it. Prone to leave the God I love.
Here's my heart, Lord. Take and seal it. Seal it for Thy courts above.
Here's my heart, Lord. Take and seal it. Seal it for Thy courts above.
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Hymn lyrics are from the traditional hymn, “Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing,” written in 1758 by Robert Robinson and altered in 1760 by Martin Madan. Public domain. Emphasis mine.
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